The Lamb Can Dance
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: In which Mr DeWitt takes Elizabeth up on her offer...


**Disclaimer: I am well aware of the nature of the actual relationship between Booker and Elizabeth; this was made solely in a vain attempt by my fevered brain to bring them closer together before the events of the lighthouses (plural). So they're not romantically involved; they're just trying to relax.**

"Elizabeth, we need to talk."

"I'm on it."

"No, the door's fine...just...about what happened."

"I'd really rather not."

"Well I would."

Elizabeth straightened to face Booker, leaving her hairpin embedded in the lock. "There's nothing to talk about, Booker. We're doing this together, or I'm doing this alone."

"My, but they do carry on don't they." Robert remarked as he stepped between them. With an almost effortless toss, he heaved the corpse he had been carrying over the railing and made his way back inside, passing straight through the door in the process.

"When the hell did you two get here?" Booker demanded, glaring at Rosalind, who was also lifting a body off the floor.

"We were here long before you." she replied as she pushed past them.

"And we shall be here long after you."

"Tidying up the mess."

"Putting chairs on tables..."

"Turning out the lights and locking the universe behind us when we leave."

Booker growled in frustration. "Fine, you two want to carry on throwing people overboard and making cryptic references no one but yourselves will get, that's your business." He looked back at Elizabeth, only to find her bent double, listening for the tumblers in the lock.

"Look..." he said hesitantly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off as with a loud click, the lock came undone and fell to the floor. She gave the doors a rather forceful shove and they practically sprang open. "It's done; let's go."

As she turned, however, Booker took a step forward and hugged her abruptly. "Booker?" He said nothing, but carefully adjusted his grip to avoid the puncture mark in her back. "Booker, I...appreciate the sentiment, but we've got an airship to catch..." she said and patted his shoulder awkwardly.

"This is new." Robert remarked casually.

"It's certainly the longest they've been in physical contact with each other." Rosalind agreed without looking up from her work.

"Shhh," he admonished her. "I believe this is what will one day be referred to as 'a moment'."

"Moments are hardly unique. One has several thousands of them every day."

"It's a colloqualism; they don't have to make sense."

"You are preaching to the choir on that one."

"I never took you for a churchgoer."

"It's a colloqualism..."

"Yes yes, I see where this is going."

"So long as we understand one another."

"_That_ has never been a problem."

"A fact I am most grateful for."

"As am I."

During this exchange, Booker had let go of Elizabeth and was now coughing loudly in an attempt to maintain his image. "I uh...sorry if I startled you..."

"It's fine. Just...what the hell was that about?" she asked, staring at him in confusion.

Booker sighed. "Can we sit down first? It feels like I've been running for hours..."

"That's probably because you have." Elizabeth said wryly. She slipped her hand into his and guided him over to a corner of the room where a small green couch sat as if waiting for them. "That thing doesn't look big enough for the both of us." Booker said grumpily.

"You go ahead and sit down; I want to keep busy."

"Hey you were the one on that table. If anyone here deserves a good lie down, it's you."

"Far be it from me to impose," Rosalind interjected dryly. "But it would seem the most expedient solution would be for DeWitt to sit down and the girl to rest upon his knees." Booker and Elizabeth looked at each other, startled.

"I don't think..."

"It's a little intimate..."

Robert folded his arms. "Of course if you would prefer to remain standing and squabble over this petty distraction while the city burns..."

"Then there's not terribly much we can do to stop you."

"We could turn them inside out..."

"It was your idea to have them linger here."

"I'm merely voicing alternatives."

"It is always advisable to have a backup plan in store." The twins, or lovers, or both, gazed patiently at the man and the girl, who shrugged their shoulders almost in unison. "Might as well get it over with." Booker grumbled, reaching out a hand and helping to ease Elizabeth down onto his lap. She shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but soon settled back against the armrest.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about or do I have to tickle it out of you?" He had to smile at that.

"You have any practice with that?"

"No, but I'm a quick learner" she grinned back at him.

"Heh, you are at that. All right; what was the question again?"

"I asked you what the hug was about, and you keep changing the subject!'

"Oh right, the hug. Y'know, I'm feeling real tired right now; you think we can do this some other time?" She rolled her eyes at him and he smiled again. "I wanted to hug you; what's the big deal?"

"You never hugged me before."

"Maybe I wanna make a habit out of it?"

"That's one explanation."

"Uh huh, and what's the other?"

"That you're trying to make up for lost time." Booker's smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared.

"I heard you screaming. A lot. I..it wasn't all you, it was the other you, but some of it was you."

"And we have the same voice." she said quietly, sitting up a little straighter.

"They turned her into a slave, Elizabeth. Turned you into a slave. They took the one thing I have left to care about and turned it into HIM." Booker's hands were balled into fists and even from where she sat, Elizabeth could see a vein throbbing in his neck. "But even when I got back here, it wasn't over. You were screaming again...the screaming...I couldn't kill them fast enough to get to you. And the guy in charge, that Powell... I almost wished you'd left him to me. We'd be a little late getting here; I don't think I'd have let him off as easy as you did."

The last few sentences tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, like he couldn't bear to have them on his mind any longer. Gingerly, he unclenched his hands and flexed them a few times to bring some mobility back, all the while never taking his gaze from Elizabeth who was looking at him with those sad sad eyes.

She started to speak, barely a whisper, really. "Booker... I'm not going to pretend it was easy for me either." He flinched at this; he'd been trying so hard not to think about what she must have been feeling. "But we've got a chance to stop what you saw from happening. She gave us this paper for a reason. The symbol on top...it must mean something. We just need time to figure it out."

Booker didn't say a word, just nodded slightly in acknowledgement. Elizabeth scooted closer to him and he blinked, startled out of his reverie. "Now what?" he asked as she tugged at her dress. "Returning the favor," she murmured and leaned her head against his broad chest. He sighed again, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I have to say, this feels nice." Booker said quietly, sending shivers down her spine from the vibrations.

"We _should_ make a habit out of it." Elizabeth agreed. They closed their eyes together and sat there in a tangled embrace, completely forgetting the Luteces as they continued sweeping up.

"Have I mentioned how distasteful I find this?"

"Oh heavens yes."

"Do you plan to do anything about it?"

"Oh heavens no."

"Is there any point in my asking why?"

"I find it cathartic."

"What, manual labor?"

"No, what _they're_ doing."

"Ah. Catharsis would be much more readily achieved if we were to hasten the procedure along."

"Perhaps you're right. But even if you weren't, I expect you would be sufficiently persistent to ruin the opportunity for relaxation they've taken."

"On three then?"

"On three or after three?"

"After three."

"You just said 'on three'."

"I know what I said."

"Then why change it?"

"To see if you were paying attention."

"I was."

"Yes you were."

"1."

"1."

"Not the Fibonacci sequence, I think."

"As you say. 2."

"3."

"Go."

**"Don't you have a zeppelin to be catching?"** Rosalind and Robert shouted in unison. Booker nearly fell off of the couch and scrambled for his gun before the situation came back to him. "Oh, right. Comstock." he said blearily. Elizabeth pulled herself off the floor and onto her feet. She dusted off her dress with one hand while reaching for Booker's with the other. She gave it a quick squeeze, and said, "Thank you Booker."  
"You're thanking me? For what?"

"For everything!"

"Well, we're not out of the woods yet..." His voice trailed off and a slight frown came to his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I was just remembering the first thing you said to me after I got back on my feet at Battleship Bay."

"And...?"

"And I think I'd like to take you up on that offer."

"Now?"

"You got a better idea?" Booker asked, facing her.

"Well, no; I...I was thinking Paris, when we..."

"IF we get there." he corrected her. Her face, and gaze, fell. "Hey, come on. All I'm askin' for is one little dance." Elizabeth looked up to see him holding out his hand to her, doing his best to be gallant. "We don't have any music..." she said hesitantly, but she was already moving with him to the middle of the office. "We'll make do." he assured her.

"No, you won't." Robert said from behind them. They turned to see him placing a record into a phonograph perched on the edge of the desk. "You reached a verdict then?" Rosalind asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I would have said that was obvious."

"I presume you went with the Disney song?"

"Wouldn't you know, I decided against it."

"Why is that?"

"They might've gotten the wrong impression."

"We think of everything don't we?"

"I should jolly well hope so." Robert said as he set the needle. "Otherwise things might get complicated."

"Complicated?"

"Quite."

"I find that word so...exhilarating." Rosalind began, but stopped as the the sounds of a violin began to play.

Booker and Elizabeth faced each other once again. "Might not be a good time to mention this...but I never learned how to dance." he said abashedly.

"It's not that hard." she replied. "I'll teach you." She placed one of his hands at her slender waist and held the other one aloft. "Or you can just follow me for a change."

"I think I'd like that." he said, smiling as they began to move. Rosalind meanwhile had had quite enough, and demonstrated it by leaving entirely without ceremony, in that peculiar way the two had. Robert stayed a few moments longer, again completely forgotten by the pair in the center of the room.

"All debts paid, DeWitt." he said to himself at last as a cloud passed in front of the sun. When the sunlight returned, he too was gone.

If anyone there had been the slightest bit interested, they would've noticed the record player had a strange lightless shimmer around it. And if the girl had been so inclined, she might have pushed the air around the machine just so, in order to hear what its duplicate was playing at that precise moment in another ocean:

_"Somewhere beyond the sea_  
_She's there watching for me_  
_If I could fly like birds on high_  
_Then straight to her arms _  
_I'd go sailin'..."_


End file.
